Dreams of Destiny
by ScorplinginTraining
Summary: Walter doesn't believe in fate. He never has. Paige just forgot how to dream for a while.
1. Chapter 1

DREAMS OF DESTINY

"My interest is in the future because I am going to spend the rest of my life there." – **Charles Kettering**

Ten year old Walter O'Brien sits on the floor outside his sister's bedroom door, a weighty medical textbook he borrowed from the library open in his lap. He wants to be near in case she needs something. Logically he knows he could probably hear her call out from his room, which is directly across the hall, but he could get to her quicker from this position. It's more efficient.

And if he's being completely honest, the young genius is a little _concerned_. That's all. He's not apprehensive. Emotions like that are counter-productive and not conducive to finding solutions.

Because Megan had to leave school again today. All anyone would tell him was she 'wasn't feeling well' like he couldn't understand 'big, scary' adult words. It is frustrating to say the least, but he'd eavesdropped enough to hear some of the words anyway, in spite of the doctor and his parents trying to 'protect' him as if relaying information would damage him in some way. Gathering facts is always useful in problem solving. It is yet another glaring example of their lack of understanding. Having all the facts actually helps Walter run the odds. He is always more comfortable knowing than not knowing.

"Hey, little bro," Megan's voice sounds hoarse and slightly weak.

So he chooses not to answer for a minute wondering if sitting in the hallway has disturbed her rest after all.

"I can hear you rustling around out there, you know. Why don't you come in and sit with me a while? Maybe we can play a game or something," she continues.

Walter closes the huge tome and clutches it under one arm as he stands up. He turns and peers into the room, but only hovers in the doorway unsure if he should go in. "Mother told me not to disturb you. She says you need to rest."

Megan rolls her eyes and scoffs, "I've been resting all bloody day. I'm bored of it! What I need is some entertainment before my head explodes and you have to scrape my brains off the ceiling. You'd be doing me a favor. If we hear Mum coming up the stairs, you can hide under the bed."

Relief floods every inch of the boy as a grin plays at the corners of his mouth. He chooses not to point out the improbability of one's head exploding due to boredom because he knows exactly how annoying it is to be bored. "All right, then. I guess I can come in for a bit," He answers instead, and he practically runs to the chair beside her bed and doesn't hesitate for a second before dropping into it. He sets the book back down in his lap and rests his elbows on top contemplating his sister to see if she looks ill.

"Would you like to play chess?" He asks hopefully, knowing he can win without even trying.

Megan gives him a mock distrustful look. "Not a chance. You know I can't keep up with which pieces move which way and how many spaces. And I know you don't always tell me the rules right either. Think you're so smart. You're just a big cheater." She shakes her head at him, but not in an angry way, more like she's teasing.

And their conversation has made her smile. She's showing both of her dimples. Maybe he's cheered her up in a way. He read in the medical text positive attitudes help facilitate positive outcomes in patients. So he decides his being here isn't detrimental to her recovery.

Walter wants to keep Megan cheerful, so he asks, "Well, what would you like to play then?"

"Hand me a sheet of paper and a pen from my desk over there. I want to show you this thing I learned at school."

Oh, good. Learning. Maybe their school isn't quite as useless as he thinks.

He almost bounds over to the desk accidentally letting the book drop to the floor in his haste. It makes such a racket, they both freeze, waiting for their mother to yell up the stairs, or worse to come and check on them. But all stays quiet. She must be outside helping with the chores. Much better.

As he bends over to pick up the book, Megan asks, her eyes twinkling "What's with the massive book, Walter? You almost gave us away. Are you after doing some weight lifting? Or a little heavy reading? Get it?"

She winks at him and he huffs out a short laugh at her nonsense. But he replies, all seriousness, "I'm finding out what's wrong with you. I'm going to fix you."

"The doctors aren't even sure yet. They're running more stupid tests on Monday. I have more holes in me than Swiss cheese from where they've been poking and prodding. I feel like a lab rat! I wish you would figure it out. That would show everyone what a brilliant brother I have and maybe they'll leave me alone!"

Walter's chest fills up with… something. It's a good feeling he doesn't have very often and only ever around Megan. No one ever believes him the way she does and he's unable to prevent his ear to ear grin. "Well, I'm going to read everything I can get my hands on. I'm sure I can find the answers."

"For now I can use your book as a desk to write on. Hurry up and bring it and the pen and paper. I want to show you."

While Walter is gathering the requested items, Megan is wiggling into a sitting position pressing her back to the pillows at the headboard. She puts one hand to the side of her head and closes her eyes wincing and gritting her teeth.

Her brother is instantly upset. "Megan? Are you okay? Do I need to get Mother to call the doctor?"

She sighs and lets her hand drop. "I'm okay. I just get so dizzy when I first sit up. And the vision in my right eye is still a little blurry." She squeezes her eyes shut momentarily while Walter stands beside her bed biting his lower lip until she says, "I'm fine, little bro. I promise."

He cautiously lays the book and writing materials on her lap and she begins scribbling and folding the paper at intervals. "If I was going to do this right, I would have to use colored pencils, but I guess we'll have to write the names for the colors instead."

Walter has no idea what she's talking about. He just sits patiently waiting for her to finish. He doesn't care what the game is as long as it keeps his sister happy and feeling better.

Finally, she holds the folded paper up triumphantly between both of her index fingers and thumbs, a mischievous smirk lighting up her whole face. "We're going to find out the first initial of the person my brother is going to marry."

Walter wrinkles his nose in distaste and gives her a skeptical frown. "You learned this stupid game at school?" His initial assessment of the learning institution was spot on. He should have known.

"A friend showed me. Oh, come on! It's fun," Megan says holding the paper under his nose.

"I doubt I will ever get married, and a game on a piece of paper wouldn't be able to predict anything accurately. It's a waste of time."

Megan's hands drop back to the book in her lap. "What do you mean you aren't getting married? Sure you will."

"Not likely."

"You'll see. In another couple of years, girls are going to become a lot more interesting." She's back to gently teasing him again, her voice taking on a sing-song quality.

The young genius sighs, thinking of how to explain so his sister will drop the ridiculous subject. "Yes. I know all about puberty and developing a sex drive. That's in the medical textbooks too, you know. I'm saying no one will want to be with me permanently. You are the only person who really likes me. I'm too different from normal people and the chances of even running into someone like me are infinitesimal. Let alone finding someone who could tolerate living with me."

The smile drops from Megan's face and she puts her paper contraption down to cover one of his hands with hers. "Who says your wife has to be like you? She could be like me. Smart in her own way, but not a genius. Someone who could teach you about love and acceptance. You'll see. Her kiss will tell you if she's the right one."

Walter folds his arms in front of him and shakes his head. Romantic love is for fairy tales. The idea someone could be effected in some meaningful way by a kiss or touch is junk science. Not even that. Besides, people don't like him. Period. He is tired of discussing it. So, he simply states, "I don't want to play. It's dumb."

But he notices Megan's face appears stricken and sad. Now he's made her feel worse. What a great brother he is. Reluctantly and grudgingly, he says, "Okay, okay. Fine."

His sister instantly brightens and once again positions her silly 'predictor' on her fingers and asks him to pick his favorite color. Feeling uncooperative, he says, "I don't have a favorite. Colors are useful for classification, warnings and camouflage. Nothing more."

Megan snorts. "Everything in your room is blue and half of everything you wear. We'll go with blue then. B-L-U-E." She moves her fingers so the paper square folds and unfolds with each letter. Then she shows him the inside. "Now, pick a number."

He vaguely points to the number twelve and she proceeds to open and shut the device twelve times, shows him the open space again and asks him to choose one more time. Walter taps somewhere in the vicinity of the middle of two flaps. Megan frowns and looks underneath the first flap.

He lets out a burst of humorless laughter. "My wife's name is going to start with 'Q'? Really?" He laughs some more. "That's the least used letter in the English alphabet. Who am I supposed to marry then? Queen Elizabeth?"

Megan's chin sets stubbornly and she lifts the flap next to the 'Q', the other one he could have been tapping. "It's 'P'. See? That's a nice strong start to a name. I think I like her already…"

OXOXOXOXOXO

Walter woke up instantly remembering every detail of his very vivid dream. He hadn't thought of that game in such a long time. Megan had always been able to coax him into doing things he wouldn't normally do. That incident had been no exception. For years afterwards, she'd joked with him about finding the illusive 'Miss P'.

Paige mumbled something in her sleep and snuggled closer against his side.

And he was suddenly inundated with a sense of rightness. Of home.

Of course a childhood game couldn't predict this outcome. Of course a stupid folded piece of paper couldn't tell the future. Except it had in its own little way.

After all the confusion and doubt Mark Collins sewed between the new couple, he felt a strange sense of peace.

Hours before, the two of them hadn't reached any kind of solid resolution by discussing their thoughts. But when she started kissing him, he was very sure being together was the right choice. There really was no other choice.

He belonged with her.

Her kisses _did_ tell him so.

 **AN: I have an idea to do another chapter from Paige's childhood and ultimate POV. Let me know if you'd like me to write that one too.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Here's the second installment as promised. Enjoy! Just a quick nod to mama's-broken-heart because she thought MASH was a great idea for Paige too!**

Ten year old Paige Dineen had the best day at school in the history of _history_! It flew by in what felt like seconds.

They'd had a substitute for Social Studies and Language Arts. She and her best friend Lauren sat in the back of the room taking turns listening to her brand new Collective Soul CD on the Discman her mom gave her for her birthday. It had a digital display feature and the best anti-skip buffer on the market.

She never asked where her mom got the money for stuff like that. She really didn't want to think about it too much.

Cody was really impressed and said how he thought it was _so_ cool. He even sat with them and listened to music for a while. Gah! He was so cute! Her heart hadn't stopped pounding for like a whole hour.

When he got up to go back to his desk, he told Paige he was going to try to come to her party at the skating rink on Saturday. She thought she might die right there on the spot!

Lauren may have squealed a little and they both burst into fits of giggles and couldn't quit. Until the sub glared at them and told them to settle down and get busy on their topographical map project. Like anyone could care less about schoolwork after Cody Baxter talked to her.

But they had to be quiet or the teacher would confiscate her CD player, so they spent the rest of the period playing MASH in Lauren's Lisa Frank unicorn spiral, the one they kept exclusively for secrets about boys and other stuff, until the bell rang.

Some of the results were pretty hilarious. They did their best to hold the laughter in until Paige's stomach started to ache.

Paige saved the funniest one and put it in the front of her notebook. That MASH said she was going to marry a mad scientist, have two kids, drive a Chevy, and live in a garage!

As if! She was totally going to marry Cody and _he_ was going to be in a band just like Kurt Cobain. Cody Baxter wasn't interested in anything lame like _science_. When they got married, the two of them would be ultra rich and drive around in matching Ferraris. Hers would be purple with zebra striped seats. And they definitely wouldn't live in an ugly old garage! Who would ever live in a garage anyway?! It was too funny!

She got off the bus at Lauren's stop so they could talk a little while longer. But her best friend couldn't hang out because she had to get to her piano lesson. They said goodbye at their usual stop sign and Paige rounded the corner onto her own street.

That's when she first caught sight of them.

There were no less than three cop cars with lights blazing right in front of her house.

What the _hell_ had her mom done this time?!

Paige stood frozen on the sidewalk as the school bus passed her and went straight by her house. The kids were all staring out the windows as the police brought her mom out in handcuffs.

Hot tears streaming down her face, the young girl's book bag slipped off of her lax arm and landed with a dull thud on the ground. Paige turned and ran full tilt in the other direction thinking only of escape.

Her dad caught up to her at the park forty-five minutes later. She was sitting on one of the swings, hands loosely gripping the chains, pushing herself listlessly back and forth with the toes of her new Doc Martens. Another gift from her stupid, thieving, con artist mother. She was going to burn everything Veronica Dineen ever gave her.

He was carrying her backpack and the way his shoulders were slumped, he looked like it contained the weight of the world instead of merely her homework. He sat down heavily on the swing next to hers and set the bag in his lap. Then he gave her a feeble attempt at a smile and said softly, "Hey there, Princess Paige."

She couldn't force out a reply. Her throat felt raw and like it had a golf ball lodged in it. He took one of her hands in his and asked, his voice sounding strained and sad, "I guess you saw everything, huh?"

Paige sniffed as tears flooded her eyes again and she jabbed at the dirt with her sandal. "I hate her," she rasped.

"Aw, honey. Don't say that, please. I know you're angry and embarrassed. You have the right to be. But hate never helps. It just eats away at you. It's like drinking poison and expecting someone else to die."

He squeezed her fingers and she looked up at him. His eyes were so unhappy and defeated, it broke her heart. "I'm sorry, Daddy," Paige whispered. It was the first time she'd ever felt so much compassion and empathy for another person. She was suddenly more worried about her father than herself.

He put her bag down on the ground beside him and pulled her out of her swing and onto his lap, hugging her tightly to him. "You didn't do anything wrong, baby." That isn't what she meant by the apology, but she didn't correct him.

She cried on his shoulder, hurting for him. For the both of them. He rubbed her back in soothing circles. When she'd calmed down to the hiccup stage, he asked quietly if she was ready to go home.

Paige nodded against his chest and they both stood. Once again her father shouldered the backpack and they walked back toward their house. She was a little too old to hold hands with her daddy, but she slipped her hand into his anyway, needing to offer comfort.

After a few minutes of strolling in silence, her father sighed and said, "I didn't want to bring this up while you're still upset, but there's going to be some big changes this time, Paige. I'm afraid I had to tell your mom she can't come back again. We're getting a divorce. I don't think it's good for you to be around her anymore."

Paige nodded her understanding, looked up at her dad and said emphatically, "Good riddance."

"Before you go blaming everything on your mom, honey, you have to think about the fact a different sort of man… A better man, well, may have been able to keep your mom… interested enough… given her enough excitement to where she didn't feel the need to-to…"

Her father's voice broke and he looked away but not before she saw his eyes filling. It scared Paige. She had never seen her dad cry before. Not once in all of her ten years.

Forgetting all the nonsense she was thinking earlier at school, she said the only reassuring things she could think of, "She was lucky to have you. She's dumb if she can't see that. When I grow up, I'm going to marry someone just like you."

To her relief, her words had the desired effect. Her father chuckled, dropped her hand and slung one arm around her neck, pulling her to him and kissing the top of her head. "No, honey. I'm lucky to have _you._ You deserve someone special though. I'm just a brainy, weird, nerdy homebody. I read too much and I talk too little. You're going to want someone to take you dancing and vacationing in exotic places."

Paige bumped her hip against his. "You _are_ special. And I _am_ going to marry a brainy, weird nerd. Here, I'll show you proof. Gimme my bag."

Humoring her, he slipped the backpack off his shoulder again and handed it to his daughter. She rummaged around and pulled out her notebook. Tugging out the MASH she'd saved and shoving it at her dad, she demanded, "See? It says right here I'm going to marry a scientist. You're a scientist, right?"

"A geologist, yes. But you don't want a stuffy old boring geologist. Our heads are full of rocks. Get it?" Her daddy's jokes were so unbelievably corny, but they both snorted anyway.

Paige stuffed everything back in her bag and hefted it over one shoulder. As they walked up the driveway, she said with a smirk, "Maybe I do want that. And maybe _my_ nerd will with dance with me in our garage. And take me places no one has ever _heard_ of before. You never know. Who wants a rock star or a stupid baseball player? Daddy, _normal_ is what's boring. Weird is great. You'll see."

They grinned at each other and went inside.

OXOXOXOXOXO

Paige hadn't thought of that day or that conversation in years, but for whatever reason when Walter was sitting there telling her he appreciated the effort it took to try his disgusting fermented fish, it all struck her at once.

Here she was in a garage after travelling to remote Norway and a fancy spa in Arctic Russia with the weirdest and nerdiest and most beautifully sexy man she'd ever met. He could certainly be considered a mad scientist by a lot of people.

Mark Collins might have briefly been able to convince her their destiny as a couple wasn't necessarily written in the stars. But she knew without a shred of doubt it was written years ago on a piece of secret spiral notebook paper in neon green gel ink. And he'd never be able to convince her Walter's name wasn't always indelibly written on her heart.

There was only one thing left to say after that.

"Walter, kiss me."

He was way too brainy to have be told twice.


End file.
